Lyfe of a Lonely Hybrid
by Angel of Androgyny
Summary: ‘All she does is weave and weave. Meticulously pulling strand after strand from her strange colored hair. Why does she not look at me?’
1. Prequel

Lyfe of a Lonely Hybrid

By: Angel of Androgyny

**Summary**: 'All she does is weave and weave. Meticulously pulling strand after strand from her strange colored hair. Her attention completely on her task. Why does she not look at me?' Surprise pairing.

A/n: Here another story that just popped into my head during Biology class when we were talking about hybrids and junk. I was writing this instead of figuring out what an albino man and heterozygous-pigmented woman's children would look like. Hope you enjoy.

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Prequel: 

In a small village off a few leagues southwest from the well that brought the schoolgirl from the future to the past a raggedy rundown shack sits. You'd think that the old cottage would be in an isolated shadowed part of the village. Not this one. This cottage was actually placed normally like every other around it. Inside resides a demon of sound mind and body but all she does is weave. Taking the multicolored strands of her rainbow hued hair and carefully spinning them into thread then weaving the thread into beautifully detailed rugs and blankets. The villagers take these and sell them at the Great Market in the Western Kingdom. There they were instantly favored and royals were commissioning certain designs and patterns but, the women never wove them. She never wove the same pattern twice.

Jilted a bit the royals and everyone else who could afford it bought the unique rugs. You would think that a village that produced such an in demand product would become very famous. No the town far enough away that it stayed peaceful and quiet. The demoness being able to weave in peace. She stayed of her own accord no one forced her to weave she just did it. The towns coffers began to overflow and everyone was happy and at peace. The silent demoness with the multicolored hair weaving the years away until there was no more villagers. The already ratty cottage she stayed in starting to rot away around her and yet somehow her spinning wheel and loom and the rugs and blankets she wove with the strands of her own hair stayed unchanged like her…


	2. Finding Lyfe

Chapter 2: Finding Lyfe

Naraku staggered and stumbled through the forest of Inuyasha. Tripping over raised logs that seemed all too happy to hinder his escape, making more blood gush from the wounds in he received from the hanyo and his infuriatingly stoic brothers' poison claws and tessaiga. Stumbling forward Naraku landed on his hands and knees, les finally giving out from massive blood loss. Breath coming out in stuttering puffs of air while he fought the inky blackness creeping in on him at the edge of his vision. By sheer will the chimera hanyo pushed himself back onto shaky legs ashamed of not being able to call his nocuous miasma around himself to speed the healing process.

The stubborn chimera hanyo kept his thoughts busy with images of disemboweling the yokai and inu hanyo that did this to him the bloody thoughts taking his mind off the pain in his abdomen and legs. After awhile of aimlessly walking around the forest he started to hear a faint "cha-chunk" sound. He kept walking forward following the sound further and further into the forest. Stumbling into parts of deep forest he had never even been in before until he reached a clearing where an abandoned village stood. Tilting his head to the side a bit the "cha-chunk" sound stronger here.

Curiosity getting the better of him he wandered into the ghostly village of old empty shacks looking for the source of the eerie "cha-chunk" sound. When he reached the center of the ghost village a lonely shack stood. The termite-infested beams that should have fallen years ago still stubbornly stood planted and sturdy in the mud packed foundation. The faint glow of candlelight shimmered in the cut out of a window with a tattered cloth as a curtain. Naraku staggered closer to this window and peeked in side.

Using a paler than normal index finger he pushed the cloth aside and wasn't sure which to be more startled about. The fact that the fabric didn't turn to dust and disintegrate under his touch or the lithe creature with a wealth of rainbow hued hair plucking it out and meticulously turning it into thread then weaving it into a blanket with the most brilliant of blues and richest reds he'd ever seen.

He watched as the figure threaded a particularly deep violet through the loom marveling at the practiced motion and the unusual dark pigment of the creatures skin. That striked him as odd he'd never seen the sun darken someone's skin to such a perfect caramel color. This creature fascinated him and he wished to now what gender it was. The heavy multicolored curls that fell in thick rain bowed rivulets down its back hid the curves it'd have if female. Not sensing any barriers Naraku decided he'd go inside and have a better look. His wounds and revenge forgotten as he pushed aside the moth eaten curtain that was the door. His eyes landing on the most beautiful and exotic creature he had ever seen and that's saying something after meeting Sesshomaru. The creature kneeling in front of the spinning wheel and loom was indefinitely female. She had a cat like face equipped with round almond shaped eyes a slightly wider nose than he was used to and wide kissable cherry lips in the shape of a bow. Her lush body was wrapped in a white dress with no sleeves the snug fit emphasizing her arms and the gold armband cuffed around her right bicep. The band shimmering from a pure gold color to a dirty bronze in the firelight with the quick movement of her arm.

Curiosity assuaged weakness washed over him his knees turning to jelly he stumbled to the dirt floor in the midst of soft multicolored rugs and blankets. Not being able to fight the darkness this time he passed out to the comforting "cha-chunk" sound of the loom. The thought 'What color are her eyes' piercing his foggy brain until blackness claimed him completely and he fell into a healing sleep. The strange female at the loom not once looking up from her task to acknowledge him or uttering a single word.

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What do you rhink? Should I continue? Leave a review. 


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